My Date With Michael J Fox
by onoxfordstreet
Summary: before Nancy, before Tracy…there was me. the untold story of my relationship with Michael J Fox. Pre-Family Ties Takes place in 1981 (20 year old Michael)
1. Chapter 1

Before Nancy, before Tracy...there was me. And this is my story.

Los Angeles, 1981

The rain wouldn't stop. In fact, it had been raining for weeks. It was one of those months where the whole of Los Angeles was afraid of going outdoors for fear of sacrificing their perfect hair to the all-powerful humidity.

I had moved to LA six months before, looking for fame. I know, original, right? I had dreams of becoming a big name. I had no agent and barely any money, but I was determined-really determined. I was going to leave a mark on this world. Yes, I was going to be the next Marilyn Monroe, or so I told myself. (I later came to the cruel realization that I just wasn't sexy enough).

Back to the rain. I remember it was a Tuesday and I had just left an audition that I had totally bombed. All I wanted to do was get back to my apartment and eat an entire roll of tollhouse cookie dough. But of course, the rain had other plans. It was raining hard, I mean REALLY hard. Like, can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face hard. Well, I guess my luck wasn't all bad that day, because I saw a lighted sign for a fast food chicken joint to my right. Longing for dryness, I made a run for it. I knew I could at least wait out the worst of the storm inside. I burst through the doors (probably with more vigor than necessary-hey, I was freaking wet and cold) and immediately formed a puddle around my feet. Looking up, everyone in the restaurant had turned their eyes at me. I made an awkward smile, addressing all of their too-nosey-for-their-own-good faces. I figured I should order something before I completely soaked the corner booth I had my eye on. I mean, they wouldn't kick out a paying customer, right? Even if she was ruining the upholstery.

"A small coke, please." I was starving, but I was also an out-of-work actress. "That's all," I added before I changed my mind.

I pursed my lips around the straw and booked it to the corner booth, trying to remain as invisible as possible. I had just settled in when I spied a phone booth in the corner. *cue _Hallelujah Chorus*_

Perfect! I thought. I'll call a cab and get out of here. I could hear my latest $1.50 romance novel that I had left on my nightstand calling my name. Hey, don't judge me. Every girl needs a cheap romance novel to keep her company every now and then. There was a kid using the phone, so I sipped my coke on my damp seat and waited for my turn.

Well, ten minutes went by and the kid hadn't made a move to come out yet. I could feel my underwear beginning to adhere itself to my body and, frankly, I was getting pretty darn tired of waiting. I mean, who could a freaking 12 year old be talking to on the phone for that long?! I was grown woman with important things waiting for me (yes, I do mean the cookie dough and the romance novel). Slurping up the last of my soda, I got up and marched over to the phone booth.

The kid had his elbow propped up on the side of the booth and was cupping his chin with his hand. He was just standing there, his back to me, staring out the window into the downpour outside. He didn't even appear to be speaking into the receiver. I saw that he had brought with him an address book and notepad, both of which were lying open next to the phone and filled with sloppy, boyish handwriting. There was also a plate of mostly-eaten chicken and a soda sitting in there.

What the...what is this kid freaking doing? I thought. Losing my patience all together, I knocked against the glass door.


	2. Chapter 2

My forceful knock rattled the thin glass door. The boy's elbow slipped off the side of the phone booth abruptly, knocking his address book to the ground.

"Jesus!" he said, spinning around to face his intruder.

Crap. He wasn't a kid. In fact, he was probably my age. Geez! He sure was short enough to be 12! I probably stood a whole foot above his head.

"Can you-" I started.

He placed his hand over the receiver, half turned to me, and said,

"Jesus, will you give me a minute?"

Well, He was obviously just as annoyed with me as I was with him. A minute? He's had freaking twenty!

I knocked again.

"Hey, you've been in here-" I tried to reason when he cut me off again. Exhaling, he pressed his tongue into the side of his mouth.

"Look," he began, "I happen to be negotiating a very important business deal here, so will you just back off?"

Really? In a phone booth? The amount of sarcastic remarks forming in my head in retort was startling. I picked one I thought fit:

"Yeah, well it just so happens that I need to negotiate a taxi for myself so I can get the hell out of here!"

Then he just stared at me. One of those stares that makes you want to throw a blanket over your head and run away...Oh. So that was his plan. He'll simply get rid of me using sheer will power? Well, two can play that game.

I held my ground and stared back, forcing myself to appear as intimidating as possible. I straightened up-suddenly using my height as an advantage. But he just kept on staring. His eyes were this weird shade of grayish-blue that I had never seen before. His hair swept perfectly across the left side of his face. I had to admit, he was hot.

Damn. Really hot. And not your typical "hot guy" hot. He had this boyishness about him that made me want to flip.

_I am in a staring contest with a super hot guy who probably thinks I am the most annoying person who has ever walked the face of the earth._

_This really isn't my day._

Then he cracked. Well, I must have been better at that whole intimidation thing than I thought! Either that, or he was just tired of participating in a staring contest with a freak.

He sighed and looked at his feet for second before pulling the phone back to his ear.

"Listen, Mr Goldberg?" he had put on a "I'm a grown-ass professional man" voice, "I'm really sorry, but is there any way we could reschedule this conversation?" A pause, and a glare directed right at me.

"Really? Great!" he continued, "Ok, thank you, Mr. Goldberg. Have a good one."

He slammed the receiver down, grabbed his trash and shoved his notebook into his jacket pocket.

"It's all yours, princess" he raised his eyebrows and slid passed me. I watched him throw his trash away and shuffle towards the door. He slid his hand on the back of his head and said something to himself before walking out into the downpour.

My stomach clenched. That hadn't gone quite as I expected. The guy probably thought I was the biggest jerk face in the world, but all I could think about were those gorgeous gray-blue eyes. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to have a second shot at a first impression. Well, that wasn't going to happen.

_Just forget about the whole stupid thing, _I thought to myself.

I slid into the booth and was thumbing through the phone book for the number of the cab company when I stepped on something.

The address book!

I picked it up and opened to the first page:

_Michael Fox_

_23 Gower St_

_Apt 241_

_Los Angeles_

Well now, Mr. Fox, a man needs his address book, doesn't he? And if a friendly civilian happens to find said address book containing the aforementioned young man's address inside, is it not her duty to return it? I smiled to myself.

One second chance coming right up.


End file.
